Pale White Specter
by Kodukadvakch
Summary: Chaos. One promotes it. One prevents it. And two are stuck in the middle. What happens when Silas finds himself fighting for something he both fears and longs for? A tale of life and death, love and hate, and the utter insanity of existance. SilasOC
1. Stalked

_Dear Readers,_

_Welcome to the first installment of "Pale White Specter." Now, we all know there is a lot of controversy surrounding "The Da Vinci Code" but this story is strictly fiction. That being said, let me explain my views on the matter. I am Christian, and strongly disagree with the ideas expressed in the movie (And, yes, I have watched the movie, though I have yet to read the book.). I did, however, become fascinated with the character of Silas. He is so tragically dark, yet innocent all at once. For that reason, I have decided to write a fanfic based around him and an original female character. Don't worry, there will be a plot to this story. There is more to romance than just falling in love, after all. Now, enjoy the story! But please, no flames._

_Sincerely,_

_Kodu_

**.:Disclaimer:. **

The idea for this story sparked solely from allykins-mate's fiction, "Unwanted Birthright." I suggest you read it. All other credit goes to the creator(s) of "The Da Vinci Code." I own only my original characters.

**.:Story Key:.**

(Normal) Word Normal Writing

_(Italic) Word _Thoughts

(Normal Quotations)"Word" Spoken English (Unless otherwise stated)

_(Italic Quotations)"Word" _Spoken Latin

**.:Warning:.**

This story is very AU, and based soley on the movie, what I have read about, and my own imagination. Bishop Aringarosa died. Silas lived. Robert and Sophie will, more than likely, not even be mentioned in this fiction.

**.:Note:.**

Sadly, I'm very bad at updating. I already have a few chapters pre-written just in case I fall behind, so don't worry...yet.

Reviews are my inspiration!

* * *

1

Stalked

**.:Storms are coming, getting closer, closer:.**

It was raining.

Bad things always happened when it rained.

Damaris shook her head, silently berating herself for her train of thought. Locks of straight black hair fell into her face as she leaned forward, staring out the window with a distant look in her eyes. Droplets of water splashed against the glass, small beads distorting the world outside. A car engine roared to life in the street below her apartment, its tires screeching against the wet road as it sped off. Street vendors shouted various obscenities as their products were soaked by the storm passing through; though their words, for the most part, were drowned out by the thunder rumbling in the heavens above.

Sighing, the fog from the girl's breath shrouded the scene in a veil of misty white. It was early morning; too early, in Damaris' opinion. The storm which rolled viciously overhead had made an appearance in the hours before dawn, it's noisy raucous tearing through the paper-thin walls of her apartment like a late night party. Always a light sleeper, Damaris had been jarred awake by the commotion.

Now she sat in a little wooden chair, her body leaning against the window as she yawned heavily; her eyes closing with the mind set of just 'resting' them for a while, then opening again in a blinking flurry when she caught herself dozing off. The black circles under her eyes were a constant reminder of her late night cramming session, mocking her for her attempts at studying for the End Of Course exams today. She would have rather had the extra sleep. It didn't really matter, though. She was going to fail anyways.

Looking down at her watch, Damaris lightly banged her head against the window pane in frustration. It was seven in the morning. She had two more hours before class. Closing her eyes, the girl took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

After waking quite abruptly this morning, she had found it impossible to fall back to sleep. So many things raced through her mind - the questions, the information she crammed for, the anxiety and worries - that her brain would just not take a rest. It had also been increasingly difficult to straighten out her thoughts long enough to get some extra studying in. So, for the past hour, Damaris had been sitting there, in front of the window, listening to the sounds of the city half-heartedly while being too preoccupied with her thoughts to even care.

Suddenly the phone rang, jolting the girl out of her numb haze. Wondering who would be calling so early, she strode from her small living room to the kitchen - a total of three steps - and picked up the obnoxiously loud device.

"Hello?" Her voice was polite, innocent, with a slight hint of confusion tingeing the word; she was horrible at hiding her emotions.

"Damaris?"

The girl involuntarily smiled at the voice on the other line.

"Lance? Why are you calling so early? Look, if you're searching for answers for exams today, my mind has officially shut down, so -"

A short laugh coming from the other line stopped her mid-sentence.

"What?" Her eyebrow was raised as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Classes have been called off today. There's been some major flooding downtown. Jeff told me." His voice turned from humorously calm to slightly incredulous. "Have you even looked outside?"

_Looked_ outside? Of course she had. _Saw_ what was going on? Damaris was embarrassed to say she hadn't.

"Oh," she said, a slight blush creeping up her neck. "I didn't notice."

"That's okay," Lance said, his friendly tone rising to the surface. "So, what are you doing today?"

"Studying." The response was automatic, as the woman had said the same thing to that question for the past week.

There was a pause on the other line, the slight sound of breathing the only noise for a long time, before Lance spoke.

"You've been studying your brains out, Damaris. What will this be? Your fourth go around through those text books? Take a break."

Damaris rolled her eyes, pushing off the counter and falling into her small musty couch in the next room.

"You know I can't do that."

"Are you okay?"

She sighed, letting her head rest against a rough, scratchy pillow.

"I'll be fine."

"Well...all right. I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay Lance. Have fun with your day off."

The line went dead and Damaris dropped the phone on the floor, closing her eyes and taking a long, deep breath. Lance was a good friend. Sweet, caring... Annoyingly nosy at times, yes, but it was usually for her own good. She had known him for years, ever since her first day of college. Four years later, their friendship was still going strong.

She felt a slight twinge of pain in her heart.

But that's all it would ever be. A friendship. Damaris had had a crush on him since the first time she saw him. He was strikingly handsome, with messy blond hair and baby blue eyes, but that wasn't all that attracted her. Unlike most females, Damaris was attracted to personality rather than appearance. Of course, she wanted a partner that looked good, but that didn't mean everything to her. Lance wasn't like most men. He was sensitive to women's feelings and was good at sharing his emotions. That's exactly what Damaris needed. An open, friendly, easy-to-be-with kind of guy.

Unfortunately, he had made it clear in the first days of their friendship that he didn't like her in _that _way. He felt more of a brotherly bond towards her, rather than an intimate one. It had been...heart shattering, to say the least. But time passed, and pain ebbed away, and pretty soon disappointment and regret were replaced by respect and understanding.

After all, she couldn't force anyone to like her.

Rising reluctantly from the couch, Damaris ran a weary hand through the stray strands of ebony hair sticking to her face and made her way towards her bedroom, where she kept her textbooks.

Upon entering, she stopped dead in her tracks, mouth agape at what lay before her.

There they sat, a pile of thick textbooks, full of worldly knowledge and soaked through to every page. A stream of water dripped steadily on top of them, forming a puddle in which they lay.

Well, that took care of studying for the day.

Outside the wind wailed noisily as the storm continued.

It was raining.

Bad things always happened when it rained.

> > > > > > >

It was cold.

A pale white hand reached reluctantly out of the inner folds of a black cloak to tie the rope belt a little tighter. Silas sighed, his body flush against a stone building, trying to find protection against the pelting rain. His cloak was soaked, clinging to his skin and weighing down his already weary body.

It had been a long day, and it was still early morning. Bright blue eyes traveled upwards to gaze at the clock tower across the street. A tolling of the bells confirmed his assumption. It was eight in the morning. He had been standing there for three hours.

His hood protected him against the harsh weather, though he could still feel the dampness seeping around his head. By now, his nose and ears had gone numb, though he paid that no heed. What was the cold compared to the stinging pain of his cilice digging into his flesh? It was a strange sensation; a mixture of burning pain from the jagged teeth, and chilling cold from the freezing metal.

Silas shifted uncomfortably, his limbs groaning in protest from the movement after standing still for so long. His eyes snapped back to the building at hand - the one two shops down from the clock tower - as a motion from the entrance caught his eye. He strained to see if the person stepping into the storm was his target.

Assessing the subject as male, he decided it was _not _the person he was looking for, and leaned back against the brick wall. Deep blue eyes closed, and for a moment he could imagine himself in another place. There it would be bright, and beautiful, and warm; not stormy, dirty, and cold. He would be at peace, kneeling in the grass, all alone but for his Lord. No one to speak to, save God. No horrid orders to follow, but those his Savior directly spoke to him.

The crash of thunder jolted him from his reverie and brought him back to New York City. The last images of grassy meadows and crystalline waterfalls faded from his mind and were replaced by busy streets dripping with grime as chilling water fell like tears from heaven above.

The rain was letting up, he noticed half-heartedly. Though it mattered little to him whether he froze to death on this mission or not. It would be release from the tasks Opus Dei had set before him.

A year had passed since the Da Vinci incident. Since Silas had been shot. Since Bishop Aringarosa had been brutally murdered...by his own hand. Tears stung the albino's eyes, though he never gave them the chance to fall. The turmoil of shooting the only person to have ever cared for him had been - _was _- unbearable. Clenching his teeth, Silas tried to block out the images that flooded his mind. Images of the Bishop falling to the ground with a painful crack. Of seeing the absolute horror in his eyes after realizing who had shot him. And how the kind man had wasted his dying breaths forgiving him, speaking words of encouragement, guiding him.

Balling his fists, Silas slammed his leg against the wall, the cilice tied around his thigh digging deeper into his flesh. The bruises ached mercilessly, and a fresh bout of blood poured down his skin, pooling at his foot and staining the ground below him a bright red.

Physical pain was better than emotional pain.

His nightly process of corporal mortification - 'cleansing' himself of his sins - had become a pleasure. For every night, one sin always stood at the forefront of his mind. And every night, it was to this sin he wept bitterly for. He never asked God forgiveness for killing Bishop Aringarosa. Every part of Silas' being was bound and determined to suffer to the greatest degree for committing such a heinous, heartless crime against his mentor. The act alone was heart-breaking, but it had opened his eyes to the truth of what he was.

He was a murderer.

A blood-thirsty ghost.

And he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Opus Dei, on the other hand, thought differently. They forgave him - openly forgave him! - of the murders he had committed. It angered Silas to know they were so heartless as to overlook the deaths of their enemies. Though how could they rebuke him for a command they had ordered? Of course, he knew the reasoning behind their mindset. How could their Angel of Death work if he was rotting away in a prison cell, or, better yet, dead?

Still, he was their puppet.

Still, he was their 'messenger of God.'

The only difference was that this time he could think for himself. This time he wasn't oblivious to their murderous ways. To their heartless, power-hungry drive. This time he was aware of what he was doing.

...Which made his nightly punishment far worse.

Murder out of ignorance, God can forgive. Murder out of free will...

...Silas deserved no forgiveness.

True, he was trapped in their services - for as soon as he left they would hire men of their own to kill him -, but it was a cowardly thing to kill others for fear of your own demise.

So he remained a reluctant slave to Opus Dei purposes. Of course, he couldn't hate all of them. Some of his good Brothers and Sisters were oblivious to the inner workings of their organization. They were truly innocent. Only a select few actually had a part in what was occurring, and it was to them he directed his heated fury.

Shaking his head, the monk turned his gaze towards the apartments building just in time to see another person walk out. Squinting his eyes, he made out the general shape of the woman. Average weight and build, though quite tall for a female. She looked just an inch or two under six feet. Her hair was black, though he couldn't tell from this distance just how long it might be, and he would have to get closer to check for eye color.

So far, though, she seemed to match up to his target perfectly.

Silas pushed off of the wall, ignoring the pain of his cilice, and made his way towards the woman, keeping to the shadows for safety.

If it were possible, the rain seemed to fall harder.

> > > > > > >

She just stood there for a moment, staring out the giant window on the bottom floor of her apartment building. Rain pelted against the glass like bullets, the wind whipping harshly at the signs hanging from various buildings outside.

_I cant believe I'm doing this_, Damaris thought as she took a step closer to the exit. In here it was warm, bright, and comfortable. Outside it was darkly opposite.

Ever since she started studying for exams - about a week ago - her social life had gone down the drain. She didn't have time for anything fun anymore. It was always work, work, work; study, study, study. Occasionally eating and sleeping would worm their ways into that schedule, though it was rare.

She had taken those dripping wet textbooks as a sign from God. Either He was saying _They were too old, you need to buy some new ones, _or _Get your butt out of bed and go have some fun!_

Damaris had went for the latter.

So there she was: standing in front of the entrance and gazing out the window like an idiot.

She had formed a plan in her apartment. Or, at least, she thought she had formed a plan. Right now, she couldn't really remember. All that mattered was that a door stood between her and social freedom, and her feet couldn't seem to move.

A guy pushed past her roughly, not even bothering to look back as he strode swiftly out the door. Damaris stumbled slightly before catching herself on the wall.

Her eyebrow raised at the man's behavior, and for a split second she felt her anger flare up at his attitude. It died down as soon as he was out of sight and turned into more of an emotion of remorse for her own insignificance.

All her life she had been invisible; just another face in the crowd. Staring at her reflection in the window, Damaris wondered despairingly how anyone could notice her at all. Her hair was pretty normal; straight, average length, and black. Her face was also fairly average. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't ugly either. Her features were fair and, in her opinion, her skin was too pale. She didn't have a tan like most women. The shirt she wore was black with white roses decorating the bottom, and neither clung to nor hung off of her body. Dark jeans and a simple pair of black crocs topped off her outfit, if it could even be called such. She was too tall and, though not fat, felt too..._wide_. Her body was proportioned perfectly with her height, but more often than not she felt like a giant compared to the petite women all around her.

It just didn't seem fair. Why did most girls grow to be beautiful, small, confident women? What went wrong with her?

The only thing special about her was her eyes. She didn't know how it happened - her mom had brown eyes and her dad had green - but somehow she had came out of the womb with bright yellow eyes. Well, they were more of an amber-golden color, but her dad always called her his 'little yellow-eyed cat,' and she just seemed to pick up on it.

Sighing in frustration, Damaris stepped quickly out of the building and into the storm. The overhanging above did little to protect her from the rain, as the wind blew it diagonally against her feet. Glancing at the watch on her wrist, the girl found it to be a quarter after eight, and figured she could get in a cup of coffee at Starbucks before moving on to her favorite New York hangout, The Artist's Corner. They opened at around nine, and she just wasn't in the mood for standing out in the rain, waiting for them to let her in.

Pulling her thin brown jacket over her shoulder, Damaris trudged into the pelting rain to hail a cab. Within seconds, a taxi made it's way down the street, driving in her direction. Relieved, the girl stepped closer to the curb and held out her hand, signaling she needed a ride. As it got closer, though, she noticed it wasn't stopping.

With the speed only a taxi driver could manage through crowded New York streets, the car flew past, the person inside not even bothering to look at the woman.

Damaris caught a glimpse of a passenger inside the car before a wave of muddy water splashed up onto the front of her jeans, soaking her legs from the knees down. Instantly a chill spread throughout her body, and her thin little jacket could do nothing to stop the cold.

Bad things always happened when it rained.

> > > > > > >

Sometimes being a ghost wasn't a bad thing. People never noticed you, never saw you coming or going, and couldn't quite tell if you were real or not. Being in Silas' position, the last thing you wanted was attention. He was a noticeable kind of person. How could you not notice a six foot, four inch tall albino monk dressed in black and carrying around a handgun? He was feared by all. People tended to scream or gasp in shock when they saw him, and it wasn't because of the gun either. He usually kept that hidden...usually.

It was because of that accursed skin of his! Since birth, it had been the reason for his emotional -and often physical - turmoil. His father had hated him, his mother had feared him, and everyone else had either taunted him or turned the other way.

It wasn't fair! It just want right that his life was destroyed because he was different!

Stalking through the shadows, Silas mentally berated himself. Now was not the time to think on the past. He had night dreams to haunt his mind, but the daylight was his time of peace...if you could call it that.

Silent as a shadow, stealthy as a ghost, the monk made his way to the building opposite of his target. He watched the woman for a few moments, taking in her details with rapid precision to confirm if this was the person he had been waiting for.

Average length hair...fair skin...and...

...Golden eyes.

Pulling out his cell phone, he speedily dialed a number, never taking his eyes off the girl before him. It rang once...twice...

"Hello?" The voice was gruff and seemingly agitated.

Silas didn't care.

_"I've found her."_ His accent wrapped around the Latin words, turning the simple phrase into a melody.

There was a pause on the other line before the voice spoke again, his Latin as rough and angry as his English. _"Good. Follow her, wait until she is alone, then bring her to the designated airport. We will further instruct you from there. May God be with you."_

_"And you,"_ Silas replied just before the line went dead.

Shutting his phone, the monk turned towards the girl just in time to see her getting splashed by a maniac cab driver. One white-blond eyebrow raised as he crossed his arms and leaned against the building behind him.

This would definitely be interesting.

> > > > > > >

Damaris leaned back against the dingy leather seat of the taxi. Her legs dripped water on the floor, but she didn't really care. Right now all she could think of was how cold it would be when she got out, and how idiotic she would look with the lower part of her pants soaked through.

Too soon the cab came to a screeching halt in front of the local Starbucks. The thought of a warm coffee was the only driving force in willing her numb feet to step out of the car. Paying the driver, the woman strode as quickly as she could towards the building. Opening the doors, a strong blast of heat mixed with the smell of coffee and cinnamon left her mind pleasantly numb for a moment.

Few people were there today, which was a good thing seeing as she was embarrassed enough by just the taxi driver seeing her in such a state, and Damaris let out a sigh of relief. Breathing in the pleasant aroma, she made her way towards the counter to order a cup of coffee.

"What'll it be?" The women behind the desk sounded both bored and agitated, as if she had just gotten up ten minutes ago and this was the last place on Earth she wanted to be.

Speechless at her tone of voice for a moment, Damaris shrugged off the feeling that this day just kept getting worse and worse, and ordered a cup of espresso.

The woman just grunted in reply, punched in her order, and walked away. Damaris blinked in confusion before leaving a five-spot on the counter and turning to face the café. She heard the sound of coffee being poured and a rough clearing of the throat, signaling that her order was up.

Damaris gingerly took the cup from the woman's hand and sipped on it, inwardly wincing as the bitter taste of un-sweetened, un-creamed black coffee slid down her throat. Looking at the employee's annoyed expression, she decided against complaining.

As she turned to find a seat, the woman stopped her.

"Hey, aren't you going to take your change?"

_Patience, _Damaris thought as she turned to face her again._ You don't know how hard a day she's had. It could be worse than yours._

She flashed her the most genuine smile she could muster and shrugged. "You keep it. Thank you for the coffee." And with that, she turned and left.

Glancing back up as she sat down, Damaris noticed the lady had a faint but noticeable smile on her face.

Maybe today was looking up?

Waiting a few minutes, she discreetly threw away her coffee while the woman had her back turned, and just basked in the warmth the shop gave her. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes for a moment to better take in the scent of the place, unknowingly dozing off.

Jolted awake by the loud ding of a bell above the door, Damaris glanced down at her watch to find that it was a few minutes until nine. The Artist's Corner would be opening any minute.

Shrugging into her soaking wet jacket, the girl looked out the window to find the storm was letting up. Smiling to herself, she decided to walk the rest of the way to her hangout. It was only about a block or two away, and she was already soaking wet, so what did it matter? Besides, it was fun to be a little spontaneous sometimes.

> > > > > > >

His dark blue eyes watched as his target left the coffee shop. The rain was still pouring, though it was much less harsh, and for some odd reason the girl decided to walk to wherever she was going. Following closely behind, Silas watched as a bright smile graced her face and she tossed her head up towards the sky, letting droplets of water splash onto her lips. It was a strange act to him; something very innocent, and carefree.

Scanning the area around them, he found that no one was around save for a few random cars driving down the road.

Good. Now if only I could...

The girl turned a corner down a long alleyway and Silas smirked.

Perfect.

Damaris, unaware of the shadow stalking behind her, continued on her way. The rain had become less of a burden and more of a cleansing shower the further she walked. The alley, though possibly dangerous at other times, was empty. The rain had apparently forced anyone loitering about this area to seek shelter. Down this way and to her left was the Artist's Corner. This was the perfect shortcut.

A noise behind her caught her attention and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of the sound. When nothing came into sight, she twisted fully around and scanned the area before her.

Funny. It had sounded like someone stepped in a puddle or something. Must have been a rat...

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, but she ignored it. After all, what could be dangerous around here? Hadn't she just seen with her own eyes that nothing was wrong?

Damaris whipped around to keep walking, and ran into a wall. She nearly stumbled back but found that something was holding her up. Blinking in confusion, the girl stared straight ahead...

...Then found she needed to look up.

Her eyes locked onto a pair of bright blue ones, and before she could take another breath, a hand shot out and clamped across her mouth.

"Do not scream."

It was raining.

Bad things always happened when it rained.


	2. White Demon

_Dear Readers,_

_Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews for chapter one! I have gotten a good response for this story so far, and it encourages me to continue. Now, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is I am getting chapter two to you early. The bad news is I have no idea when I will be able to update after this. My cousin is flying in from out of state to visit for a few weeks, so I feel obligated to spend most of my free time with him. He is also a computer hog, which is why I will not be able to access this story for a while. I'm very busy throughout the day, and usually end up writing very late at night and going until early morning (From about 10PM to around 3AM). Since the computer is in the guest bedroom, I will have no chance to write for a few weeks. I already have four pages of chapter three written, and am hoping to finish that before he comes in this Sunday. If I do, I will try to find a time to update. If not, I will give you what I have so far of that chapter. I try to write an average of ten pages (or around 3,000 - 4,000 words) per chapter, so I am not sure if I can have it done by Sunday. Well, anyways, thank you for your wonderful reviews!_

_Sincerely,_

_Kodu_

**.:Disclaimer:.**

I own nothing except my original characters and this plot!

**.:Story Key:.**

(Normal) Word - Normal Writing

_(Italic) Word_ - Thoughts/Flashbacks/Letters

(Normal Quotations) "Word" - Spoken English (Unless otherwise stated)

_(Italic Quotations) "Word"_ - Spoken Latin

**.:Warning:.**

Silas may seem out of character towards Damaris in this chapter. My reasoning for his treatment of her (and you will know what I mean by this after reading the chapter) is that 1) He thinks all women are lying deceivers, and 2) From all the stress put on him by Opus Dei ever since the Da Vinci incident, he has a short fuse.

**.:Note:.**

I enjoy smybolism and double meanings in many things, including this story. So far, I have hidden several messages hinting at both Damaris and Silas' personality (Both individually and as a couple) in their names, in their actions, and in their appearances. Also, I wonder if anyone has found the connection between their names? Here's a hint: read Acts 17.

I live off of reviews!

* * *

2

White Demon

.:Silence can be the tongue's most vicious rebuke:.

The first thing Damaris noticed was that it was not a wall. And _it _was male. She took in his height, his strange attire, and then registered that his hands were strikingly pale. Looking back into his eyes, she found him staring at her with a frightening intensity, and only just then noticed his iron grip on her shoulders.

So many thoughts raced through her mind, it was hard to grasp hold of one thing to say.

His voice broke her from her confused haze.

"You are coming with me." The words danced on his tongue and his strange accent melted her heart, but the meaning of them made her tremble.

"W-what?" she stuttered ungracefully.

Silas resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at her comment and instead began dragging her towards the shadows just in case someone might see them. Forcing her against the wall, he used his body to stand as a barrier between her and freedom. The black of his robe covered her presence, shrouding them completely in darkness even if someone happened to walk down the alleyway. His body was so close to hers he could smell the sweet scent of her hair and feel the tremble of her body.

Damaris gasped at the closeness of this stranger. His musky, strong scent was overloading her senses and she found it hard to concentrate.

But she had to. Something he had said...oh, she had forgotten already! But it was important, it was life changing, it was...

"You are coming with me," he repeated, letting the words sink in this time. He couldn't remember the last time he had been in such close proximity to a woman, and he was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on the task at hand.

"Do not struggle, and you will not be harmed."

Damaris closed her eyes, willing this nightmare to go away. Maybe if she pretended he wasn't there, she would wake up? A few moments of silence passed, and for a second the girl thought maybe she really _was _asleep; but as the rain pelted down on her head, she felt the warmth of his body radiating just a few inches in front of her.

Gripping her wrists, Silas slung the girl around to move in behind her, her hands being forcefully held behind her back. The wind blew the edges of his cloak against the backs of her legs, and his hot breath tickled her neck as he lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Run..."

The cold steel of the monk's handgun pressed painfully into the small of her back, and the girl gasped in shock.

"...and you will regret it."

Swallowing the bile that had risen in her throat, Damaris nodded her head, and with trembling lips breathed a silent, "Okay."

She could almost feel his smirk, her body quavering violently as the wind and rain - and cold fear - chilled her even more.

"Good. Now walk."

> > > > > > >

This wasn't happening.

This _was not _happening!

Damaris was pushed roughly into the passenger seat of a Chevrolet Impala. Her mind, nearly shutting down from all the fear and stress, pointed out how much nicer this car was compared to the rust bucket she had back home. Well, her car was in a repair shop at the moment. She wondered what would happen to it if she never went back to pick it up.Nearly slapping herself for her thoughts, Damaris' breath caught in her throat as her kidnapper slid in beside her.

There was an awkward silence, but that was to be expected.

The engine roared to life, and with it the realization that this was, in fact, happening. Tears of fear, frustration, and anger raced down the girl's cheeks as she huddled closer towards her door, trying to get as far away as possible from the pale maniac sitting beside her. Before she could hold back, sobs spilled from her mouth, and she could do nothing to stop them.

Silas glanced at the woman sitting beside him as he drove through the busy streets of New York. Her tears were slowly creeping into his heart, making him feel a twinge of remorse, but he hardened his resolve and blocked out her cries. Now was not the time for regret. He had a mission to complete, a task to accomplish, and neither heart nor soul could stand in the way of his resolve.

"W-why...?"

That one shaky word seemed to break through his barriers like a gunshot. For a moment he considered ignoring the girl, but his conscious would not allow it.

"What?" he said calmly, forcing every emotion to leave his voice when he spoke.

Damaris sniffled and sat a little straighter, turning her head to gaze upon the figure of the man to have changed her life forever.

"Why me? W-why...t-take me...? I...I don't understand..."

The truth was, however, neither did Silas. Opus Dei gave the orders. He simply followed them. This woman was barely out of childhood - a college girl! What significance could she possibly be to his superiors? So he answered her the only way he knew how. Vaguely.

"God reveals all in time."

Damaris stared at him incredulously. She was a devout Christian, and loved the Lord. Every second of silence that had passed in that car she had spent in fervent prayer, asking God to deliver her from this situation. For him, her kidnapper, to even _mention _His name was mind boggling!

"Who are you?"

The words spilled out before she could stop them, and the question hung in the air like a tangible spirit. Silas stopped at a red light and turned his head to look at the girl. Bright blue eyes bore into teary golden ones as he took a deliberate pause of contemplation.

"I am a messenger of God."

Anger flared throughout her body as Damaris slit her eyes at the albino.

"You are a criminal!"

As soon as it had come, it was gone, and it left the woman more drained than energized. Water leaked out of her shining orbs and she buried her face in her hands.

Hot fury blinded Silas for a moment, and the light turning green was the only thing that stopped him from lashing out at the girl. Snapping his head back to the road, the monk clenched his teeth and took long, deep breaths.

_"__Lord, give me strength not to strike this woman,"_ he prayed in Latin, his eyes still glued to the road. Those simple words seemed to calm him as he relaxed deeper into the chair. Surprisingly, he heard the faint sound of his captive uttering a shaky prayer through her hands, though he only caught a few words. When she had finished, the girl sat up and stared out the window as if in a trance.

"Are you catholic?" His voice was even, as it always was, but for once he had to actually strain to hide his emotion. Opus Dei victimizing unjust sinners was bearable, but to harm a fellow believer was nearly too much.

"Christian," Damaris whispered, wondering why he had asked such a question. "Where are we going?"

"God reveals all in time."

The woman merely sighed, laying her head against the window as they drove further and further away from everything she had ever known. It was a strange thought, but Damaris was literally driving away from her old life.

The rest of the car ride was silent.

> > > > > > >

It was quiet, and for once in Silas' life, it unnerved him.

Christian.

She was a Christian and, though they did not practice the same 'tradition', they had the same beliefs. It was strange to him, kidnapping someone who loved God just as much as he. Was this really His will? Would God think this just; to rip someone from their comfort zone - from everything they had ever known - and throw them into a situation that had yet been revealed to even himself? How would God react to a situation like this? He prayed for a completed mission while she prayed for freedom. Both prayers cannot be answered. But he trusted Him. Silas trustedthe Lord with every fiber of his being. God works in mysterious ways, and more often than not, man cannot see His plans in their entirety.

Damaris sniffled softly as she lay her head against the window once more. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the contours of the vehicle before the hazy cloud blocking her thoughts lifted. She nearly gasped at the opportunity that lay before her.

The door was unlocked.

Forcing herself to remain calm, the girl discreetly glanced towards her kidnapper out of the corner of her eye. His focus was entirely on the road and navigating the busy streets. Up ahead was a stop light. This was her perfect chance.

As the albino slowly pulled to a halt, Damaris flung open the door and threw herself out of the car, narrowly missing a speeding taxi on her way to the crowded sidewalk on her right.

Silas, caught off guard, abandoned the Impala and sped after his captive. The game soon became one of cat and mouse. His little mouse was seemingly lost in the throng of faces tramping down the streets, and for a moment he thought he might have lost her. A wave of shouts and a flash of black hair alerted him to her presence once again.

Running with all her energy through the crowd, Damaris unknowingly created a trail of angry people that would lead the albino straight to her. Exhausted, the girl slowed down and glanced over her shoulder, finding no trace of the kidnapper. Out of breath and panting, she bent over, leaning her elbows against her thighs, and took long, gasping intakes of air.

Something cold and round pressed into the middle of her back, and made her breath catch in her throat.

"I told you not to run," hissed that familiar voice, only this time is was dripping with venom. He pressed the gun harder into the girl's spine.

Damaris' legs nearly gave way from fright, but looking at the crowd of people all around them seemed to give her some semblance of strength. Her eyes were narrowed as she straightened up rather abruptly. Whipping around to face the frightening man, she gave him the coldest glare she could muster.

"You wouldn't dare shoot that thing here," she whispered harshly. "There are too many witnesses!"

Slitting his eyes, Silas gripped the girl's wrist and dragged her closer to his intimidating form. Gripping her chin, he forced her to look up at him while he, in turn, stared down at her with hot intensity.

"God is my shield," he answered calmly, though the look in his eyes burned with barely-controlled anger.

"God shields no sinner," she spat.

His hold on her chin tightened considerably, leaving finger-shaped bruises along the top of her neck. Damaris winced in pain and tried to wrench her head free, but the man's grip was too tight.

"You will burn for your words!" he yelled.

"You will burn for your actions!" she shot back.

Both were left panting for breath as the angry rebukes left their mouths. Ripping his hand away from her chin, Silas grabbed hold of her arm with a vice-like grip and dragged her down the closest alley he could find. Slamming her against a wall, he raised a hand and smacked her across the cheek.

"No deceitful woman will dare speak of condemnation in my presence."

Raising her hand to feel slick blood dripping out of her mouth, Damaris let out a sob while looking at the man with pure hatred.

"No criminal _albino _will dare determine what is condemnation and what is truth!"

He lifted his hand to smack her a second time.

"Do not speak against me!" he hissed.

The blow landed hard across her already stinging cheek.

"Do not hit me!"

Again he lifted his hand.

"Your words do not faze me!" he shouted.

Smack.

"Your blows do not hurt me!" she yelled.

Smack.

"Stop this insolence, or I shall beat you bloody and senseless!"

He raised his hand to strike her again, but she never spoke. Staring hard at the woman before him, he nearly collapsed from emotional exhaustion. Her head was bowed, a mess of black hair blocking her face from view, and her body was racked with sobs as salty tears burned trails down her bruised and bloody face.

Damaris openly wept, the tension and stress becoming too much for her to handle. Her face burned, and the tears - though comforting her soul - did nothing to quell the physical pain of their stinging presence. It wasn't fair. A few hours ago she had been sitting in her apartment, minding her own business. Now she was in the clutches of some maniac albino who had no qualms with beating her 'bloody and senseless,' as he had put it.

Silas nearly choked on the regret he felt as he watched the girl tremble in pain. He...he shouldn't have done that. It was ungodly. It was...cruel. Flashes of his father beating his mother flew through his mind as he forced his sobs down his throat. The albino gripped the wall to keep from falling to his knees in emotional turmoil. Tears of frustration sprang to his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before they had the chance to fall.

Was that what he had become?

A woman abuser?

Bile rose in his throat, and he had to turn away from the girl for a moment to regain composure. Taking deep, steady breaths kept his body from trembling, but did nothing to soothe the aching pain in his heart. The memories came unbidden. Memories of his father's angry words, of his mother's frightened eyes; and of a pale little boy cringing in a corner as he watched it all.

'You're worthless,' he screamed, kicking the woman in her side as she scrambled backwards on the floor. 'You dirty wench! You deceiving whore!'

He bent down, grabbing a fist full of hair and dragging her half-way off the ground while she sobbed, and begged, and pleaded the entire time. He always smelt of alcohol, he could fill a whole room with it's sickening aroma, and the little boy knew his mother could pass out from the stench coming off his father's breath. The man forced her to look into his eyes, then asked her the question he had asked so often.

'Who did you sleep with? What freak paid you to carry his devil's spawn in your womb!' Spit flew from his mouth and onto the woman's face, the alcohol stinging her bruised cheeks.

'P-please! I-I l-love you,' she would cry as the man punched her harder.

'No son of mine would look like that! No son of mine would be a white demon!'

'White demon...' he repeated, as if forgetting something. Smacking his wife one last time before tossing her to the ground, the man started looking frantically around the room.

'White demon,' he whispered in a sing song voice. The little boy cried out when his father spotted him huddled in the corner. Before his young body could move, the man was upon him, beating him relentlessly.

'Hear that, beast?' he said, referring to his mother's sobs. 'You do that to her.'

A smack to the face.

'Each time you breath, she chokes.'

A knee to the abdomen.

'Each time you speak, she cries.'

Somehow he had gotten hold of a wooden table leg, and began to whip the boy across his back, while shouting various insults with each blow.

'Monster!'

Whack

'Devil!'

Whack

'Ghost!'

Whack

'Worthless, soulless, pale white specter!'

When his son could barely move, the man kicked him in the side and spat on his face.

'Every day you live,' He threw the wood at his wife, hitting her across the back and making her cry out in pain. 'She comes closer to death.'

Nearly to the point of choking, Silas clenched his teeth and said a silent prayer, trying to keep his mind off the images flashing across his eyes. The sound of his captive's labored breaths reached his ears, and he looked on her with sad eyes.

He wanted to comfort her somehow. Comfort her as no one had comforted him. Help her as no one had helped his mother. So badly he just wanted to promise it would never happen again! That he would never, ever harm her. But that might be a lie. For all he knew, he might have to kill this child for Opus Dei purposes.

Breathing shakily, the monk took a step closer towards his captive, placing his hands on her shoulders. This time, however, his grip was gentle.

Damaris, on instinct, shrank back from him, a small whimper of protest escaping from the back of her throat. His touch was dirty now. It seemed almost...slimy. To even be standing this close to a man who had beat her was enough to make her stomach churn. Ripping away from him, the woman stumbled towards a dumpster and gripped it's sides, retching on the ground beside it. She hadn't had any breakfast that morning, so when she had spilled the contents of last night's dinner, she began to dry heave.

A hand rested lightly on her back, only causing Damaris to hack and cough more violently.

"_Get...away..._"she said in gasping breaths before a coughing fit overtook her.

Silas instantly complied.

After watching her struggle in pain for a few more moments, he spoke up, his voice as emotionless as it had once been, though he fought through sobs of his own.

"Undoubtedly, the car has been moved by now..."

Damaris heaved painfully, taking long, deep breaths before letting them out in a wheezing fit. It was as if she were trying to retch out the very pain that settled sickeningly in her stomach.

Furrowing his brow, Silas stepped towards the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Stop that, you'll harm yourself."

Damaris gave him a look that screamed 'What more can hurt me?' before another coughing fit racked through her body.

"I.." _cough _"...can't..." _cough_.

Stepping up, the albino placed one pale hand against her throat and the other on her back. Pausing as if unsure of what to do next, the monk nodded slightly and began to lightly massage the girl's throat while running his fingers up and down her spine. He remembered those times the kids of his childhood taunted him because of his skin. How, on the worst of days, the verbal abuse had become more physical. A knee to the abdomen had soon become a daily occurrence for him, and it had always started a fit of dry heaving. On those rare days his mother took pity on him, she had comforted him this way - by rubbing his back and massaging his throat until the coughing had vanished, and only a dull ache was left in the pit of his stomach.

As he continued soothing the girl, Silas repeated over and over in his head the phrase he dare not say aloud.

_I'm sorry._

Damaris shivered at his actions, but had to admit it was helping. The pain was slowly ebbing away from her body until she was completely relaxed. By the time she opened her eyes, her back was leaning into his chest and her head lolled against his shoulder. For some odd reason, she felt strangely cold when the man stepped away from her.

Flipping out his cell phone, Silas quickly dialed a number while keeping his eyes on the girl.

Damaris stepped gingerly away from the remains of her dinner and huddled against the wall, her bright golden eyes flashing around her surroundings.

"We will not be able to make our flight," she heard the albino saying, and a shiver went down her spine. They had been going out of state? The mere thought of flying for a prolonged amount of time beside the imposing figure was enough to make her want to retch again.

Eyeing the girl and seeing her reaction, Silas switched the conversation to Latin.

"What do you mean you won't be able to make it?" said the gruff voice from earlier.

"She has caused some...trouble. If you will schedule another flight, I can hold her until then."

The other line was silent for a moment. _"Fine. The next one is tomorrow at noon," _the voice growled, and the line went dead.

Clicking his cell phone shut, the monk turned back towards his captive. Grabbing her arm tightly yet gently, he led her discreetly out of the alleyway and towards a rickety old apartment building. Struggling with all she had in her, Damaris was considering screaming before her kidnapper's words stopped her.

"You should not have run."

"I know that already," she replied bitterly, motioning to her bruises.

Silas stopped, staring into her eyes blankly.

"You could endanger those whom you love."

Without another word, he dragged the girl towards the building, but her shout of protest made him turn around.

"Wait! W-what do you mean...?"

Once again those piercing blue eyes pricked Damaris' soul, but she ignored the uncomfortable feeling it gave her. A deeper sense of foreboding was slowly rising to the forefront of her mind.

"My..._organization_... They are not forgiving people."

Damaris was speechless as he dragged her on.

"What's that supposed to mean!" she said after a long pause.

Silas said not a word.

> > > > > > >

The room was small. The rickety bed lay in the far left corner, a table with a lamp in the far right, and a door leading into a grimy bathroom stood on the right wall. Layers of dust covered the walls, and Damaris didn't even want to know what covered the floor. It was disgusting, it was filthy, and it fit her situation perfectly.

As soon as they entered, Silas locked the door and went straight for the bathroom. As he reached the frame, he crooked his head and looked at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

"You may have the bed. Do not disturb me."

And with that he disappeared into the tiny room, leaving his captive alone.

Damaris would have sprang for the exit had she not seen him lock it. Instead, she slowly crept over towards the bed and lowered herself on the lumpy mattress. Closing her eyes, the woman sighed.

He had left her alone with her thoughts. And so she thought.

For long, boring hours she thought.

Damaris replayed the events of the day over and over in her head, tears springing to her eyes, until her mind finally rested on what the albino had said just before entering this nearly condemned apartment building.

Not forgiving people...endanger her loved ones...

Slowly, the meaning of her captor's words revealed themselves, as she soon uncovered them for the threat they were. Those of whom she loved could be killed. Her friends, Lance...

...Her parents...

Would she ever see them again?

Maybe. But if she...if she didn't...cooperate...then...then...

She didn't want to think about the consequences. She didn't want to think. Damaris couldn't believe that a week ago she thought her life had been stressful, with the beginning of final exams and all. Now...everything had spiraled to unimaginable degrees. First she was kidnapped. Then she was beaten. Now she finds out that her loved one's lives were being threatened.

And for what?

What did she have to offer this 'organization'?

Her mom stayed at home, and her dad was a pastor. She was a normal child born into a normal family. Her friends were normal, her school was normal, her _life _was normal! Who would ever think of hurting her?

The thought of what they might do to her friends and parents made her shudder.

Slowly, Damaris' eyes began to shut from the emotional and physical strain. Exhaustion was finally catching up to her. Right now, all she wanted to do was drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But apparently God would have none of that.

A loud, pained sounding hiss came from the bathroom, making Damaris jump.

What on earth was -

A loud smack followed by a grunt cut off her thought. Stepping lightly towards the bathroom door, the girl placed her ear on the wood and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the sounds coming from inside. A light crunch sound was followed by a sharp intake of breath, then a string of words in another language. Damaris winced at the noises, and before she could allow her logical mind to convince her otherwise, she burst through the door.

What she saw would burn in her mind for all eternity.

There kneeled her captor, stark naked and white as the pale moon, lashing out at his own back with a weapon that left gaping wounds. On his right thigh was a metal device that dug into his flesh. Her eyes were glued to it, and she watched in a haze as blood dripped lazily over the purple and black bruises mangling his skin. Long, thin scars stretched in every direction across his spine and sides, and she could see where his most recent wounds were beginning to ooze with yellow puss. She was amazed he hadn't already died from blood poisoning with all the infections littering his body. As she scanned over his form, she failed to realize his bright blue eyes were burning into her until she glanced towards his face. Damaris gasped and stumbled backwards as the albino slowly rose from his kneeling position - deftly whipping on his robe - and stalked over towards her.

"I told you not to disturb me," he growled, the words rumbling deep in his throat, though his voice was still monotone.

The girl tripped over her own feet, landing roughly on the floor, but began scrambling backwards despite the pain. She closed her eyes against the image before her. The image of a pale white specter stalking closer to her helpless form, a trail of crimson staining the legs of his robe and pooling at the tops of his feet. Bloody footprints marked his path as he seemingly glided nearer to her trembling form.

"P-please..." she whimpered, bringing her hands up to block her face as if on impulse. "I-I didn't m-mean to..."

Damaris looked up to find her kidnapper hovering over her like the ominous presence he was. He stared into her teary golden eyes, not making any moves to strike her, though his blue orbs seemed to burn.The albino's towering form filled her vision, and his wide shoulders blocked any chance of escape.The girl huddled up into a ball, rocking her body back and forth, and began to weep.

For once in her life, Damaris felt small, and it scared her to death.

Silas looked at her in a mixture of disgust and regret. The bruises he had caused stood out in ugly splotches scattered along her cheeks and neck. Her tears turned her naturally pale skin an angry red. Those bright golden eyes of hers had closed, and he had the odd suspicion that, even if they were open, he wouldn't be able to find the fire that had once burned in them.

The next time Damaris looked up, her captor had vanished, but she did not dare move from her spot on the floor. That empty corner of the room had become the safest place she could find. Still weeping from fear and shock, the girl continued to rock herself to sleep.

As her eyelids closed and darkness overtook her, she could hear the faint sound of self-induced torture ringing in the background.

And as she began to lose consciousness, the last thing to cross her mind was disgust, while at the same time the last thing to cross her heart was pity.


	3. Journal

_Dear Readers,_

_Thank you for your patience during this time! I've found that I have more time than I had previously believed, and am able to access the computer more often than I had thought. For a few days I've been working on the plot of this story, and have debated on how to develop it. Below is the beginnings of the actual plot! I haven't had time to proof-read this chapter much - I usually end up reading through a chapter about four times, making little corrections here and there, before I even consider posting it - but quite frankly, I don't really care. It's late (1:30AM), and I'm tired. So, I apologize in advance for any errors you might find. Maybe, when I have time, I will re-edit this chapter. Right now, I'm just trying to get it to you as soon as possible._

_Sincerely,_

_Kodu_

**.:Disclaimer:.**

In another universe, in a land where water is purple and the skies change from orange to green, I am ruler over all living, breathing, inanimiite, dead, or otherwise existant or non-existantobject, person, or idea. In reality, I own nothing save for my own twisted creations.

**.:Story Key:.**

(Normal) Word - Normal Writing

_(Italic) Word_ - Thoughts/Flashbacks/Letters

(Normal Quotations) "Word" - Spoken English (Unless otherwise stated)

_(Italic Quotations) "Word"_ - Spoken Latin

**.:Warning:.**

This chapter jumps from scene to scene a few times, going from one character to the next. Also, I am introducing a new character, and hope I am not rushing his emotions and past. I don't want it to seem like I am pushing his thoughts, opinions, and life onto you too quickly. There is not a whole lot of Damaris/Silas development here.

**.:Note:.**

This chapter is, by far, the shortest one so far. I'm so very sorry for that! Take note of the plot developments, and the subtle hints hidden in small things such as character names (Actually, _especially_ character names.) if you want to try and guess what these "Journals" are before I reveal it. I think I have way too much fun hiding double meanings in things...

Oh, and IceAngel08 brought up the point of how to pronounce Damaris' name. Technically, it should be "DAM-uh-riss", stressing the first syllable. However, I say it as "duh-MARE-iss", stressing the second syllable. Also, her last name is "Cephus" which is, technically, pronounced "SEE-fuss". But, once again, I have changed it around a little and instead I say "KEH-fuss", changing the softer "C" sound to a harsher "K" sound. I hope that helps!

I won't update until I get at least 10 reveiws!

* * *

3

Journal

.:Your deepest feelings, your darkest emotions, are revealed not in your actions, nor in your words, but in the farthest recesses of your mind:.

It was early, but the old man didn't care. Stroking the worn leather of the large tome, John Cephas smiled his tired smile while sinking back into the arms of a recliner. Opening the giant book carefully, he quickly read a few passages before closing his eyes in blissful euphoria as the words wrapped around his imagination. Of course, this book wasn't the original - that one was written in a mixture of Greek and Aramaic, and was much too old to touch - but the history was still the same; the emotion was still the same. No, the first journal was locked safely away, hidden from prying eyes. This copy was just fine for day-to-day use, though even it's fairly new pages were beginning to yellow with age.

John sighed contentedly as he began to think on his daughter, Damaris. He remembered fondly the times she would crawl up on his lap as a little girl and beg him to read a story from 'That Really Big Book Thing,' as she would call it.

He had been ecstatic that she was so interested in her family's history at such a young age.

Suddenly the loud _brrrrrriiiiing_ of the phone jolted him from his musings. Setting the book aside gently, John picked up the phone with a friendly, "Hello?"

"Mr. Cephas?" asked a gruff, angry sounding voice on the other line. Not recognizing the caller, the man furrowed his brow in confusion.

"This is he. May I ask who's calling?"

A long pause on the other line was a definite 'no' to his question.

"That is not important at the moment. Right now, we would like to talk to you about your books."

"Books?" he said innocently, in an ignorant voice, though he glanced over at the giant journal laying on the coffee table a few feet from where he was standing. John Cephas was much better at hiding his emotions than his daughter.

Growling, the voice answered. "Journals. Your ancient volumes. We know you aren't ignorant, Mr. Cephas."

"We?" John said, his voice laced with false confusion.

Agitated beyond belief, the man on the other line - for it must have been a man, as no woman could make such animalistic noises - responded curtly, "That is not important right now. What is important is that we would like to purchase those antiques from you."

"They are not for sale," the man replied angrily, losing his false tone of calm unawareness.

"They are important biblical artifacts," argued the voice. "You cannot expect to keep them hidden from the world forever!"

Gripping the phone until his knuckles turned white, John nearly shouted into the receiver. "They are my family's personal property, and you cannot expect me to reveal our hearts and souls to the public eye!" Then he hung up.

Panting heavily, the man ran a shaky hand through his hair. Bright green eyes darted around the room before finally resting on the book. Biblical artifact or no, this book - along with the many others archived in his vault - was a window into his entire family's history. His emotions, his fathers emotions, his grandfather's emotions and generations more were written down in page upon page of faithfully recorded journals.

The book he had with him now was a copy of the first journal. It was what started them all; the most precious, valuable, emotional book he had ever read. This journal is what brought him to Christianity as a young teenager. It is what opened his eyes to the unconditional agape love Jesus had for him. It is what compelled him to become a pastor.

If they wanted it so badly, they would have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.

Still shaky and frustrated, John looked at the phone in his hands and smiled faintly. Dialing a number, he held the device up to his ear.

Damaris would want to hear about this...

> > > > > > >

Silas nodded, hanging up his cell phone and slipping it back into his robes. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he stared over at the girl and sighed. What he had to do would be difficult - she would never cooperate -, and it would be trying on his nerves, but it had to be done. Opus Dei had yet to reveal their plans to him, though he figured this girl was in it for the long run. Settling himself against the wall, the albino watched as the sun began to rise.

It had stopped raining hours ago, and the quiet of the early morning was more unnerving than any noisy racket. Damaris' eyes shot open of their own accord, and in her groggy state of mind she instantly forgot what had made them do such. The dead silence of the room chilled her to the bone, even though she was buried deep in the musty covers atop the creaky mattress. And then she remembered.

She had fallen asleep on the floor.

A pair of bright blue eyes were staring straight at her from across the room, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Damaris could make out the form of her captor leaning against a paper-thin wall, arms crossed and head slightly bowed as he looked at her from under his lashes. He wore the same black robes from yesterday, though they had been cleaned and removed of any blood stains.

Pushing off the wall, Silas stalked towards the girl, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth upon seeing her wild morning hair. As he approached the bed, she untangled herself from the covers and jumped off the mattress, panting laboriously as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

"Good," he said, stopping a few yards away from the girl, the bed standing between him and her. "You're awake."

Damaris not only looked like a frightened deer ready to flee at the sound of a pin drop, but she felt it, too. Taking deep breaths, she tried in vain to calm her frayed nerves.

"Y-you..." she whispered, furrowing her brows in confusion as her kidnapper just stood there, crossing his arms and staring at her intently. "Did you put me...in...in the..." She gulped, the mere thought of the albino taking her to bed causing a blush to creep up her features.

He merely raised an eyebrow, not making this any easier for her.

"...in bed..." she finished, the blush staining her cheeks bright crimson.

Smirking, a mischievous glint flashed in Silas' eyes as he nodded. "I did."

His expression did nothing to calm Damaris' nerves. "Y-you didn't...didn't...did you...?"

Slitting his eyes, Silas took a step forward, his intimidating figure towering over the girl even from a distance.

"I may be a _criminal albino_," he spat, quoting her from earlier and incredulous at what she was insinuating. "But I am not one to take advantage of women." Then adding, as if an afterthought, "I am celibate."

That last part hit her hard. Damaris could have laughed, if the situation had not been so serious. Celibate? Her kidnapper, her captor, the man who beat both her and himself, was _celibate_!

How twisted the world had become.

The image of him kneeling, blood pouring down his back and legs, flashed before her eyes and made her shiver. Instantly, the strange device on his leg came to mind, and she stared at his right thigh questioningly.

"Is...is...that _thing_. Is that what it's for?" Her voice was timid, and her cheeks turned red at remembering the man naked.

Silas glanced disinterestedly towards where the woman's eyes wandered, and raised a brow as he lifted his shining blue orbs back towards her golden ones.

"You mean the cilice?"

The albino's voice was calm as usual, but held a note of warmth to it. Damaris noticed he must be in a good mood this morning. That, or for some morbid reason, he liked pain.

"Cilice..." she answered carefully, trying the word out on her tongue. Forming an instant dislike to it, the girl squinted her eyes and scrunched up her nose.

"Yes," Silas answered, watching her reaction carefully. "It quells a man's desires."

Damaris' face turned a deep shade of red, and she quickly looked away, focusing her attention on anything but the man in front of her.

Stepping around the bed, Silas came up beside the girl and stared at her for a while. The bruises on her face had become more noticeable, though her eyes were no longer red and puffy. Streaks of black hair covered most of her face as she bowed her head - whether in fear or shame, he did not know -, and her bright golden eyes seemed fascinated with his sandals. Her emotions flew across her face with clarity; how her brows creased when she seemed confused, how the corners of her eyes seemed to twitch with the strain of not looking up, how her lips were pulled back in a thin line as if she were concentrating on something.

Damaris felt her captor's piercing blue eyes burning into her, but she refused to look up. She realized her choices were very limited nowadays, and this was one of the few things she had control over. Besides, if he couldn't look into her eyes, he couldn't see what she was thinking, right?

The girl could have smacked herself for such idiocy. Everyone - including herself - knew she was easy to read; like an open book. No matter how hard she tried, it would be impossible to hide from this pale man. He probably knew what she was thinking right now!

Reaching into his robe, Silas deftly pulled out a cell phone and thrust it into the girl's line of view.

Blinking, Damaris snatched her phone from the man's grasp and glared up at him.

"How did you get my cell phone?" she whispered harshly, backing away from him and leaning up against the wall. Not even waiting for an answer, Damaris flipped open the device and began to dial the police. Before she could even press the second number, a pale hand wrapped around her wrist and squeezed so hard she was forced to drop the phone.

Catching it in mid air, Silas pushed the girl back against the wall and leaned in towards her, his body blocking any form of escape. His forehead nearly touching hers, the albino slit his eyes and whispered harshly, "Do _not _do anything brash."

Releasing her wrist, the monk backed a few steps away from her, and offered her the phone again. "Now," he breathed, his voice the very definition of commanding. "Call your work. Tell them you are taking a vacation and you do not know how long you will be gone." Seeing the incredulous look on her face, he roughly pushed the device into her hand and forced her fingers around it. "Do it now," he growled.

Damaris was shaking, but it did not distract from the way his fingers felt against hers. She entertained thoughts of how strong and secure they felt twined with her own, while at the same time reprimanded herself inwardly for thinking such things about her kidnapper. His voice was harsh, but as the girl looked into his eyes, she saw a pleading note hidden there.

Nodding numbly, Damaris dialed the numbed and held the phone up to her ear.

"Grinwald Insurance. This is Lydia speaking. How may I help you?"

"Lydia? Hi, this is Damaris." Looking up at the albino, the girl watched as his mouth set in a grim line and he crossed his arms.

"Damaris! Hey, girl! Why weren't you at work this morning?"

Deciding it would be best to hurry, she continued in a more rushed pace. "Um, look, I was just calling to tell you that I'm taking an extended vacation. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Oh," Lydia said, her voice full of shock. "Is everything okay, Damaris? You sound sort of panicky..."

It was only then that Damaris noticed how her breaths came out in gasps and tears slipped past her eyes. Her subconscious mind had, apparently, reminded her that this phone call just brought her one step closer to an unknown future of confusion, deceit, and abuse. It was heartbreaking and mind-shattering at the same time, and she hadn't really had time for all the emotions to overwhelm her yet. So they leaked out discreetly, sneaking up on the unsuspicious girl and pouncing when it was too late.

"No, e-everything's fine," Damaris gasped. "L-look...I h-have to go." And she hung up.

As soon as the line went dead, the flood gates opened and sobs escaped her throat.

"W-why?" she whispered again, asking a question she knew he would not answer.

Or maybe he _could _not?

As cold as ever, Silas turned away from the girl and stalked over to the other side of the room. He debated in his mind on how to act in this situation, and decided to go the harsh way. He couldn't allow himself to feel any sort of emotional attachment towards this girl, and already he had a deep sense of pity for her. This was not good. _Feeling _was not good, so he set his mind on becoming like stone; hard and unrelenting.

"It would be best to pull yourself together," the monk said in his usual monotonous voice. His back was towards to her, and as he turned to face his captive, he saw the tears glistening in her eyes. "You have more calls to make."

Sniffling, Damaris nodded shakily and stared down at the phone in her hand. Suddenly, the screen began flashing and the tune from Mario started to play. The cheery melody was very ironic, considering her situation, and somehow brought a dry smile to her face.

That is, until she read the caller ID.

"Dad..."

> > > > > > >

It was dark. So dark, the slimy black tendrils of nothingness seemed to reach out and suffocate the little man standing in their icy presence. A pair of grimy hands gripped the briefcase fiercely; slim, bony fingers twitching every few seconds out of nervousness.

"Step forward," a disembodied voice echoed from the darkness.

The man walked, head bowed, towards a tiny platform lit by a single light from overhead. From his position on the circular metal, the world around him seemed to grow even dimmer. A thousand men could have surrounded him without his knowing, as the white beam beat mercilessly against his head. Vaguely, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but he dare not move for fear of the consequences.

Suddenly a hand shot forth from the void before him, and the man nearly stumbled backwards in surprise. Swallowing his fear, he managed to hold his ground while gazing intently at the black-garbed man before him.

"Briefcase," came the voice again.

With trembling fingers, he handed it to the shadow man and gasped when the hand - and the body attached - disappeared completely.

Silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. Beads of sweat formed at his temples and trailed their way towards his neck; falling into his eyes, around his nose, and inside his mouth in the process.

"What is this?" The voice was neither angry nor harsh, but held a calm tone to it. This frightened the man to unimaginable degrees. When the tiger roars, you see, it shows it's anger clearly and you can determine it's emotions - and, therefore, it's actions. It is when the tiger keeps silent and watches you with contemplating eyes that you should worry. For in these moments, the beast is sizing you up, either studying you from a distance, or waiting to pounce. It is the silence before the roar. The calm before the storm. It is in these moments that you should fear for your life.

And the man feared. With every ounce of his trembling being, he feared.

"I-I thought it w-would be h-helpful..."

"Helpful?" the voice cut in. "Keys, photographs... What are locks when you have weapons? What are pictures when you have blueprints?"

Then, the most frightening word the man could ever hear was heard.

"Useless."

The clang and scuffle of footsteps alerted him to the presence of several others nearby, though he could still not see anything. He felt something cold and hard press into his back, and heard a faint click.

"You are useless."

The bang of the gun echoed endlessly throughout the cavernous area, and the man fell; his body, like the darkness, growing quite cold.

> > > > > > >

The phone rang once...twice...three times, and still no answer. Scratching his white-speckled beard - more out of habit than nervousness - with thumb and forefinger, John Cephus breathed a silent 'hmmm.' He walked around the room with blind grace, coming to a stop with his hand resting against the mantelpiece about the fireplace. One lazy finger drifted towards a picture of his only daughter at her high school prom, and a slight smile crept onto his features.

Damaris sat on an intricate chair, the plush white cushion sewn with patterns to match the carvings on the wood. Her shimmering black dress matched her hair which, that day, had been taken up in a simple updo held with an imitation diamond clasp which left her bangs free to frame her face. A pair of fake-but-real-looking diamond earrings dangled delicately downward, stopping a few inches from her shoulders, and a beautiful silver necklace with a genuine diamond piece was clasped around her creamy-smooth neck

The dress hugged her curves gently, falling around her body in waves of shimmering ebony, and gave her a modest amount of cleavage. She had scrutinized herself carefully under her golden gaze in the mirror, and had determined that her appearance was 'as good as it was going to get.' John knew his daughter was beautiful, though not in a 'drop-dead' and 'stand-there-gaping' kind of way. It was the kind of beauty you had to come to appreciate, the kind that grew on you with time. Like the first fading colors of sunset, one did not see it's true beauty until one gazed into the sky for a few moments. That night, she had had the face of an angel, her radiance sprouting from her soul within. Damaris just didn't know it yet.

With a bright smile, she tilted her head slightly to the side and gazed up at the camera under her dark lashes. Beautiful golden eyes glinted mischievously, and the corners of John's mouth twitched upward in a knowing smile.

The picture had been cut off from just below the knees, and looked almost awkward because it did not reveal the bottom of her dress. In truth, Damaris had done this on purpose when having her picture taken.

Being her usual stubborn self - John blamed her mom's side of the family for that one -, his daughter had downright refused to wear the shoes that matched her dress. They were three inch heels, fit like a glove, and were absolutely gorgeous. But also being her usual self-conscious self - once again, he blamed her mom's side of the family -, she had realized that five feet, ten inches plus three inches equaled six feet, one inch. And that six feet, one inch - or, in this case, 'A' - also equaled 'B' - or, as she would call it, 'Bad'.

Most guys in her school were six feet tall, and those taller all had really short girlfriends. In Damaris' mind, height was a major factor in who you dated, which was precisely why she had only dated one person in high school, and that person had broken up with her because he had felt awkward about how tall she was. It was like Animal Planet. Tall male zebra dated short female zebra - or something like that. Tall female zebra remained celibate all their lives. They didn't get eaten because they were so tall, but they were still pretty much outcasts. It was just the natural order of things.

If the tall female zebra wore three-inch heels, they would tower over the other beasts of the African Plains and frighten them all away. So to a tall zebra, or to Damaris, heels were bad. That night, she had gone to prom in her sneakers.

Chuckling to himself, John listened to the phone ring for the seventh time, about to hang up, when his daughter's voice stopped him.

> > > > > > >

"H-hello..." Damaris' breathed shakily, her gaze focused intently on the albino before her. His own blue eyes glared at her, warning her that every breath she took was a privilege, and that every word she spoke determined whether she kept or lost that privilege.

"Damaris, my little yellow-eyed cat! I thought you would never answer. How are you, darling?"

Her father's charming, easy-going voice brought her to tears, and the girl had to swallow the sobs rising in her throat.

"I'm doing fine, dad." It was a bald-faced lie, and she couldn't even rejoice in the fact that her voice had remained steady. In the back of her mind, she saw the image of her father lying in a pool of his own blood, a bullet to the heart the source of his fatal wound.

Nodding in approval, Silas stepped closer to the girl, motioning with his hands that she should hurry. Biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling, Damaris hurriedly spoke into the phone.

"Um, dad, while I'm talking to you, I need to tell you that I'll be gone for a few weeks. The, uh, school is giving us a break and I -" Here she faltered. It hurt too much to lie so boldly to her father, but it was necessary. For her life, for his life - especially for his life! - it was horridly necessary. "And I told my friend, Jen, that I'd go with her to...to a family reunion. Well, more like a retreat. You haven't met her yet, but she's really nice. Goes to church, has good grades, doesn't drink or smoke."

There was, in fact, a girl named Jen. She was in one of her classes. Damaris had just never spoken to her before. Now, whether she went to church, smoked, drank, or was a relatively good girl was unknown. It wasn't really lying, though, if you didn't know what you said was the truth or not, was it?

Silas waved his hand impatiently at the girl, and Damaris glared at him in unchecked hatred.

"Look, dad, I have to go-"

"Hey, hey, hey! Hold on their, girl!" John finally had the chance to cut his daughter off. She had been babbling on and on - something very unlike herself - for a while now, and he finally had the chance to get his say on the conversation. "Darling, that's all good and well, but I called to tell you something."

Damaris could have smacked her head in frustration. Right now, she just wanted to get off that phone. Already, it was a miracle she hadn't burst into tears just by hearing her father's voice. Now he wanted to make conversation with her? All the while, some pale mad-man has been staring at with that creepy 'you're-my-next-victim' look, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

"Dad, I really-"

But he cut her off once again.

"Remember those books, darling? The journals?"

_That_ shut her up. Glancing at her kidnapper discreetly, she nodded numbly before realizing she was on a phone, and mumbled a quick, 'Yeah.'

"Well, some man called asking to buy them. You wouldn't believe the audacity he had, too! And I didn't even know anyone knew about our books..."

"You didn't sell them, did you!" Her voice was breathless, and a sudden unnamable fear had seized her heart at the prospect of losing those books forever.

Silas growled slightly at the change of topic. He snatched the cell phone from his captive's hands, hearing an incredulous 'No' before flipping it shut.

"That is enough." His eyes bore into the girl's golden ones, and for once the intensity inside them unnerved him. It was like he had sparked a fire that the depths of his blue orbs could not quell.

As if to explain himself - though he did not know why he felt he needed to -, the albino motioned towards the door with a nod of the head. "We must go. Our flight leaves soon."

Fear flooded every part of Damaris' being at the mere mention of flying. This was it. Her life had ended with the mere thought of being taken away from all she held familiar. She was being kidnapped, stolen, ripped away from everything she ever held dear, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Vaguely, she recalled the tune from Mario playing once again, and thought in the very recesses of her mind that her dad must have been calling back. The black-robed man, however, merely flipped the phone open and turned it off.

As the screen went black - a mist of void covering the once-glowing light - she realized that the very same darkness was covering her soul.


	4. Madmen and Philosophy

_Dear Readers,_

_I apologize for the delay! My cousin has come and gone, and now that my schedule is finally winding down, school is about to start up again! I have roughly two weeks before our first full day, and hope to update a few times beforehand. Once again, thank you so much for your wonderful reviews!_

_Kodu_

**.:Disclaimer:.**

I own EVERYTHING. Well, except for Silas, and Opus Dei, and the airport, and...okay...never mind.

**.:Story Key:.**

(Normal) Word - Normal Writing

_(Italic) Word_ - Thoughts/Dreams/Letters

(Normal) "Quotations" - Spoken English (Unless otherwise stated)

_(Italic) "Quotations"_ - Spoken Latin

**.:Warning:.**

Possible OOC-ness for Silas. My reasoning: he's confused and is trying to get his emotions straight while still trying to maintain a sort of 'tough guy' act. Damaris' emotions also seem to go a little haywire, but she is both angry and frightened and will snap at any moment, and seek comfort from anyone.

**.:Note:.**

New character introduction in this chapter. After choosing his name, I went a little more in-depth for it's meaning and found out that "Andrea" was the name of a sculptor who taught Leanardo da Vinci. How ironic! There is some Silas/Damaris fluffiness, so feel free to cringe in painor squeel in delight- whichever one you feel is appropriate. Also, some more plot development, and in the next chapter we find out where Silas is taking Damaris!

Once again, **I don't update** until I get at least **10 reviews**!

* * *

4

Madmen and Philosophy

.:Where is the line between love and hate? Both are obsessive, both are life-changing. Where is the line between fear and trust? Both will inevitably disappoint you:.

Stepping forward, Silas made to grab the girl's arm, when she jerked back quickly. Growling slightly, he slit his eyes and crossed his arms.

"We must leave. _Now_."

Trying desperately to delay the inevitable, Damaris shook her head and stared hard into her kidnapper's eyes. She knew downright refusing to leave would be pointless. He was bigger than her and, therefore, had the advantage. Even if she was faster - and the girl didn't even know if she was -, the door was locked and the key was tucked safely away in the man's robes. Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind, and she blurted it out quickly.

"I can't leave! My - my bruises are too suspicious. This sleazy hotel may not have cared, but a flight attendant will."

Proud of her triumph, Damaris lifted her chin slightly to show both dominance - though she could have laughed at the thought of dominating such a giant man - and to emphasize the visibility of her bruises.

Inwardly wincing, Silas instantly began formulating a plan in his mind. Within minutes, he had roughly figured out how to deal with this problem, and grabbed the girl's arms before she could protest any longer.

"We will get some cosmetics to cover them up. But we _are _leaving."

Trying to wrench away from his iron grasp, the girl thrashed against his body and did everything in her power to cause him as much trouble as possible. The albino, however, just continued walking towards the door, his strength overpowering hers. Gripping both her wrists in one hand, Silas fished into his robe for the key and unlocked the door. Before stepping outside, he turned towards the girl and shook her slightly.

"There are two ways to go about this, _girl_." The annoyance in his tone was evident, and enough to get Damaris to stop struggling for a moment. Gazing up at him with a mixture of hatred and fright shining in her eyes, the woman quickly became lost in the coldness of his icy blue orbs. Suddenly, she felt very small, and a tiny whimper of protest escaped her throat as the albino stepped closer to her.

Though his scent - a mixture of sweat, wax, and something both sweet yet musky - made her knees weak, the experience was nothing sensual. His closeness was used as a tool to intimidate. Somewhere along the way, she had apparently let it be known that his presence frightened her to the greatest degree.

Silas watched the subtle changes in the girl's features as his body engulfed hers. Fear shone brightly in her eyes, but he wasn't entirely sure her weakness was from fright alone. Smirking, the monk pushed her harshly against a wall.

Damaris let out a gasp of protest, the force of smashing into the wood temporarily knocking the breath out of her.

"Either you can follow me without struggle, or I can drug you and carry you to the airport."

The girl's eyes gazed blindly at the albino's lips, and despite her best efforts she couldn't help a blush from staining her cheeks. An image of his strong arms wrapped around her, circling around her waist and giving her a security no one else had managed, flashed through her mind. Clenching her eyes closed, she forced the thought away and nearly shook herself for her wandering mind.

"Okay..." she whispered shakily, glancing up into her captor's bright blue orbs. "I...I won't fight." The words tasted like bile in her throat, and Damaris had to force them out of her mouth. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run away, but her logical mind fought it by stating just how hopeless that attempt would be.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in her mind, and the beginnings of a plan formed. If she got the albino to trust her, then perhaps he would allow her a little more freedom and, therefore, an easier chance of escape. Well, it was worth a try.

Stepping away from his towering form, Damaris lowered her head and squeezed a few tears out of her eyes. "You win..." She was a horrible actor, but the sobs choking her throat were not fake. "I'll go with you."

And with a shaky sigh, she resigned herself to her fate.

For now, at least...

> > > > > > >

He was tired.

He didn't want to make that call.

After dialing the number, the man instantly regretted it.

Grumbling, the old man stared wearily at the phone in his hands, the drawl of monotonous Latin creeping out of the receiver. The fire in the study had flickered to a low orange glow, the embers shining brightly against the dark gray ash. It was mesmerizing, and the sensation of heat radiating onto his legs and cool air hitting his face made the man yawn lazily. A wrinkled hand lifted slowly to cover his gaping mouth, and a pair of bright green eyes closed in tired ecstasy.

But still the voice droned on.

Shaking himself awake, the man forced his mind into attentiveness.

_" - plane leaves soon. The girl has been troublesome, and might not arrive to you completely unharmed..."_

_"Wait," _he snapped hurriedly, trying to catch the albino before he continued._ "You are not to harm the child, no matter what the circumstances." We cannot have another Da Vinci incident,_ the man added in his mind, running a shaky hand through his graying hair.

Pausing a moment before continuing, he heard the labored breathing of the monk on the other line, followed by a muffled "Do not run!" He cleared his throat before speaking.

"You are a messenger, my dear Silas. So try to abstain from the 'Angel of Death' routine and deliver us this girl. Now, after you arrive, I will provide transportation for your journey to my abode. The Teacher will contact you from here. May God be with you..."

Then, as if an afterthought, he added: _"...friend."_

Flipping his cell phone closed, the man propped his feet up on the plushy red ottoman in front of him. Staring out the window as a flurry of snowflakes brushed against the glass, Andrea Valerius let his overstuffed chair engulf his tired old body.

Allowing his eyelids to droop, the man nodded off, his mind wandering to the old days. The days of the convent, and of the monastery. When a strange pale boy had been dropped on his doorstep by an old friend. Of raising said child as his own, teaching him the ways of God, and praying nightly for his soul; though even in those early days, he had sensed an inevitable darkness overtaking the boy.

Jolting awake from his dreams, Valerius glanced at the clock sitting atop his mantle and realized he had been dozing for the past hour. It was now seven o'clock, and his expected call was well over due.

Arthritic fingers, calloused from years of satisfying toil, gripped for the cell phone laying atop the simple wooden coffee table. After dialing a long series of numbers, the man placed it to his ear and heaved a sigh before someone on the other line picked up.

_"Name,"_ came a gruff voice, it's Latin scratchy and almost painful to hear.

_"Andrea Morte Valerius."_ The old man spoke in a softer tone, the language sliding off his tongue in practiced ease.

_"Purpose."_ The questions the voice asked were spoken as statements. Refusal to answer them was not an option.

_"Regarding Silas and the child."_

There was a pause before the other spoke. _"Processing... Do not disconnect."_

Valerius could have laughed. It sounded like something a telemarketer might say, though the other's voice was cold enough to make one's blood chill. Tapping his aging fingers against the armrest of his chair, the man waited impatiently.

_"Andrea," _came a different voice, the words spilling through the receiver sweetly. Valerius crinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head slightly. Some things were just too sweet. It was obvious the other's words were insincere, as his voice held an underlying mocking tone to it.

_"How nice of you to call."_ It continued in that overly sweet manner before switching to a rather dark, spine-chilling voice. _"What took so long?"_

The old man took a moment to force the anger out of his throat before speaking in a monotonous manner. _"The child is being transported as we speak." _He purposefully ignored the other's question. _"How goes the research with her parents?"_

A slight growl from the other line showed things weren't going very well. _"We have uncovered his vault, though have come across some obstacles. It is impossible to get inside except for the entrance, and the entrance only opens to those who already know how to get inside. The family is the only way in."_

Rolling his eyes at the obvious statement, Valerius replied in an agitated voice. _"Then why kidnap the girl? Why not force the father or mother to open the vault?" _

_"That is impossible,"_ the other replied curtly. _"They have some sort of tradition, where the key is passed down to the oldest child at an indeterminable time of age. This girl is their only child. She has the key." _

_"Then why not steal the key instead of the girl?" _His voice was angry,the flames of the fire glinting in his eyes as an incredulous expression overtook his features.

Growling, the voice yelled impatiently at the old man. _"Fool! There is more to this lock than just a simple key. We need codes, we need thumb prints and retinal scans. This girl not only _has _the key, she _is _the key."_

After going over various plans and courses of action, he finally hung up. A deep, anguished sigh escaped the old man's lips as he sunk further into the warm comfort of his chair.

As the dying embers of the fire slowly flickered out, so the man's dying hope slowly extinguished.

> > > > > > >

She had done it again.

That stubborn girl, with her troublesome determination, had fled from his side as they were loading the plane. Silas nearly growled in anger, but realized this wouldn't be too safe of an action as they were in a rather crowded public place. So instead he flew after her, dropping their single suitcase on the spot and trailing the raven-haired girl like a dog.

Damaris had seen her opportunity, and was stupid enough to risk the albino's wrath once again. The bruises along her neck still ached, though they were covered completely with foundation and were invisible to the casual observer. Her kidnapper had taken out his cell phone and took his focus off of her for a split second. It was all the time she needed.

Running like a madwoman through the throng of people boarding the plane, Damaris pushed her way viciously towards the exit. Seeing the smiling face of the lady who had taken up her ticket gave the girl hope. That is, until a strong hand gripped hold of her hair and dragged her backwards against a broad, heaving chest.

Bending down to her level, Silas breathed dangerously into her ear, "Do not run!"

Snaking his arm around the girl's waist, the albino tried his hardest to focus both on the man speaking to him, and the girl struggling in his arms.

"Let...go...of...me!" Damaris hissed dangerously, preparing to strike her captor in the knee with her foot. As if he had sensed this, the albino released her and let her drop to the floor.

By now, nearly everyone boarding the plane was staring at them. For good measure, Silas bent down and gripped her hands gently, entwining her fingers with his and pulling the girl to her feet.

"Shhh...it's okay, sweet," he said for show, wrapping an arm around his captive's shoulders; though it was more to keep her from running again rather than to comfort her. The monk turned to the people watching them and shrugged. "Afraid of flying."

As if this explained everything, the different groups and families turned and continued with what they had been doing before. Slightly shaky from the close encounter, Silas walked the woman into the plane, found their seats, and forcefully pushed her into hers.

Damaris cringed, pushing herself as far away from the man taking a seat beside her as she could. Her seat was by the window - just her luck! - so she was veritably trapped. Buckling herself in with shaky hands, the girl swallowed the sobs choking her throat and willed the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes not to fall. Trying to ignore the albino sitting next to her, she stared blankly at the seat in front of her before realizing she could see his pale hands in her peripheral vision. Shifting to where her back faced him, Damaris rested her forehead against the window and tried to focus on the scene outside, but his reflection in the glass was driving her crazy.

Silas watched the girl attentively, making sure she was doing nothing that could harm him or his mission, though he was fairly certain he had her trapped. Seeing her pain infused with every part of her body, the monk felt an undeniable twinge of guilt pricking at his heart. She loved God, she was innocent, and she didn't deserve what was happening to her. Other people he had kidnapped, even killed...no, he had no regrets of their fate. But this girl was different.

"What is your name?" The question slipped out unexpectedly, and Silas was surprised with himself. Usually he did not care, but this girl intrigued him and he was itching to know her name.

She mumbled something in reply that the monk did not catch.

"What?"

He leaned in closer to hear and was surprised when she twirled around to face him, her nose merely inches from his own. An angry fire burned in her amber eyes, and she slit those beautiful orbs dangerously before speaking.

"I _hate _you."

Damaris might have seen the flash of hurt surprise that crossed her captor's face if she had not been seeing all red at the moment. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest, so loud she was afraid he might hear it, and her face was flushed with anger. Tears still brimmed her eyes, though they had turned from fear to frustration. Leaning in to the albino - making him, in turn, lean back -, a flurry of angry words spilled from her mouth.

"You hideous beast!" she whispered harshly. "You heartless, soulless monster! I hate you and all the evil you stand for. Messenger of God? Ha! That is reserved for angels alone, and you are a demon!"

She would have continued if Silas had not clamped a hand around her throat. He squeezed slightly, letting her know his intentions if she didn't shut up. The girl instantly froze in terror, and the fire that had lit her eyes only moments before was extinguished. Leaning in to where his body nearly engulfed hers, the monk was about to speak when a woman clearing her throat interrupted him.

"Sir," said the flight attendant, eyeing the two suspiciously. "You need to fasten your seatbelt. The plane is about to leave."

Like a child caught stealing candy, Silas gingerly let his hand slide from the girl's neck - making it look like he had been caressing her rather than about to choke her - and buckled himself into place. When the woman left, he tossed his captive a death's glare before leaning back into his seat.

Damaris gasped and clenched her eyes shut, willing this nightmare away. She could still feel his terrifying grip on her neck, but the memory of his soft hands gliding down her skin brought a blush to her face. Turning away before he could see, the girl took a few moments to collect herself. Her breathing had returned to normal, and her nerves were finally calming down.

Then the airplane started to roar to life.

What her kidnapper had not realized when he spoke before was that she really _was _afraid of flying. As the high pitched whine of the plane's engines froze her heart in terror, Damaris latched onto the armrest beside her before realizing the albino's hand occupied it.

Silas eyed the girl's hand wearily for a moment before shifting his gaze to hers. Strong blue eyes bore into a pair of frightened golden ones, and the monk felt the smallest bit of pity. Gripping her shaking hand in his pale one, he leaned towards her and mumbled soothing words.

"Shh...it's alright."

The plane turned, lining up with the runaway.

Damaris clenched her eyes shut in terror and tried her hardest to focus on the voice mere inches away from her ear.

"Nothing bad will happen; I fly often."

Silas noted how the girl leaned closer towards him, her head pressed lightly against his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around her body, he shifted to where their legs were touching and squeezed her hand gently.

"I will protect you."

Damaris blushed brightly as the sensation of his body against hers overtook her. His scent was intoxicating, and his strength gave her a sense of security she had never felt. The albino's words washed over her like soothing rainwater, and his fingers curled gently against her hand.

As the plane lifted into the air, Damaris gave the smallest of whimpers and buried her head in the crook of her captor's arm.

Surprised at first, Silas froze in indecision before laying his chin against the girl's straight black hair. Inhaling deeply, he smelt the faint scent of lavender and a more natural scent - like the sweet aroma of flowers after it rained.

As the plane rose gracefully into the air, the couple failed to notice, and clung to each other as if it had lost it's right engine.

Only when the captain came over the intercom to inform the passengers they could now take off their seatbelts did the two separate.

Damaris couldn't will away the bright streak of crimson staining her cheeks, so instead she tried to ignore it. Sitting beside the man in awkward silence was far better than acknowledging anything had ever happened. She hated to admit it, but this was the most physical contact she had had with a man besides her father in years. There was really no particular reason for it; she was just too busy for a boyfriend and Lance wasn't much of a touchy-feely kind of guy. What had occurred mere moments earlier shocked her in many ways. Once, because he was her kidnapper, and two, because she wasn't disgusted by this fact. Her emotions were running wild, and Damaris had no idea what to do, so she dealt with it the only way she knew how: denial.

Silas, on the other hand, was inwardly beating himself just like he would outwardly beat himself later that night. Such contact with a female was forbidden. He was celibate, and this was the most physical contact he had had with a woman in years. He might have blushed, if he had the ability, but instead decided to dwell on his mission to take his mind off of what had happened. It was quickly proving to be impossible, though, as the sensations of the past began to flood his senses, and the aroma of sweet flowers in the rain wafted up towards him seemingly out of thin air. Gazing at his captive, he glared at her as if everything was her fault. He was dealing with it the only way he knew how: denial.

"Peanuts?"

The voice caused both of them to jump, and they glared at the flight attendant with the same deadly look.

Blinking nervously, the blonde backed away. "Guess not..." And she left.

Hours seemed to stretch by, but in truth only about thirty minutes had passed, before Damaris broke the silence.

"Where are we going?" she attempted once again, hoping he would answer her this time.

"God reveals all -"

" - In time. I _know_." Rolling her eyes, the girl leaned against the window and stared at the albino, studying him carefully under her lashes. It was the first time she had truly looked at him. At first glance, his skin was frightening, but after a while Damaris began to see the almost angelic glow it seemed to give off.

His hands were large and - though you couldn't see it - she knew them to be calloused. Standing at a few inches over six feet, he was a giant of a man, with broad shoulders but an almost lanky body. The albino was much stronger than he appeared, and he appeared pretty strong in the first place.

The girl noticed a scar under his right eye, and tilted her head slightly, inwardly wondering where he might have gotten that. On one of his jobs, no doubt, if he kidnapped people for a living.

Silas felt the girl's eyes studying him, and it took all he had within him to keep from glaring at her in return. So, she was curious as to her White Demon captor? Well then, let her look. Let her gaze upon the freak to have stolen her away. If anything, her fear would show him just how hopeless his affections were. Flinching inwardly at his choice of words, Silas mentally berated himself. Affection? More like pity. No, he didn't care for his captive in that way. He wouldn't allow it. It wasn't right. It was morally wrong, frowned upon by both clergy and God, and he refused to disappoint his superiors...again.

"Why did you want to know my name?" Her words jolted him from his musings.

Turning to look at her, he gave the girl a questioning look. After realizing she wouldn't explain herself, he replied discreetly.

"I still do."

Blinking at his answer, Damaris cocked her head to the side, letting her ebony hair fall slightly into her golden eyes. "Why?"

When he didn't answer, the girl sighed angrily and straightened herself in her seat, crossing her arms over her waist.

"Are you some sort of psychopath?"

"What?" He blinked in confusion and gave his captive his full attention.

"Well, you kidnap me, you beat me, you...comfort me..." Here she trailed off, staring intently at the seat in front of her and refusing to meet the albino's eyes. "...and now you want to know my name. I just don't understand why. Either you're deranged..." Glancing up, Damaris met her captor's gaze. "...or I am."

Hiding his smirk from her comment behind a face of passiveness, Silas answered her almost playfully. "All men are mad to a certain degree."

"Ah, and a philosopher as well," the girl teased, the slightest of smiles creeping up her face. "I agree. All men _are _mad. Us women are the sane ones."

This time he let the smirk slip past, and saw the light in his captive's eyes at seeing his friendly features.

"So, you are saying you have a sound mind?"

"Define 'sound.'"

"The ability to think and reason without mad desires clouding the mind."

Looking him squarely in the eyes, Damaris answered in a serious tone. "Then no one has a sound mind. If you're not falling for temptation, then you're _thinking _about falling for temptation. And when you cannot have what you desire, it not only clouds your mind, it consumes it. When we are consumed, we lose the ability to think and reason."

Raising a pale eyebrow, Silas unconsciously leaned closer to her, a sincere smile on his face. "So, the girl is no child after all..." he said, almost to himself. "Tell me, where do you learn such things?"

Shrugging, Damaris grinned. "I take philosophy in college." But slowly the smile faded until a deep sadness shone in her eyes. "I mean...took."

Silas watched as the girl leaned against her seat and heard the sigh of anguish that escaped her lips. He fell back against his own plush chair and closed his eyes slightly. Their moment of playful teasing had been, oddly enough, enjoyable. The monk once again felt that familiar twinge of guilt, and cringed inwardly.

He was a murder. A beast. He spoke constantly of loyalty towards God, but with each step he took his heart told him he was walking down the wrong path while his mind told him this path was the _only _path. And now he had taken a turn in the rode he had wished never to take. Silas was a kidnapper, a thief, and his heart - for some unnamable reason - ached more now than it ever had before.

Pulling a worn leather bible from the folds of his cloak, the monk rested a hand lightly against the cover and closed his eyes.

_Lord, may you guide my fingers and bring me to a scripture of comfort, _he prayed silently, then flipped open the book and glanced down at the page.

'Thou shalt not steal,' it read, and Silas inwardly cringed. _Perhaps it was the wrong page?_ he thought gingerly.

Flipping the page, he continued.

'And he that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death.'

Quickly closing the old book, the albino clenched his fist in frustration. It appeared even God was displeased with him.

"Where are we going?" The voice of the girl broke his thoughts, and he was deeply thankful to her. Her voice was shaky and he could tell that once again she was holding back tears.

Instead of his usual answer, he found the decency to reply honestly. "I cannot tell you." Silas found that his voice was soft and soothing, though God knew he hadn't intended for it to sound so comforting.

There was a long silence after that, and the monk found himself zoning out when his captive broke through his thoughts once again.

This time, however, her words touched his heart.

"My name is Damaris."


	5. Threats

_Dear Readers,_

_Once again, I apologize for the delay! I've been doing some research, and have gathered a few interesting facts about monks and Opus Dei. After spending a LOT of time fathering information on the organization, I decided that my plot would take a completely different twist, veering away from Opus Dei and more towards something a little bit darker... Well, you'll see. Anyways, here is the fifth installment of Pale White Specter, and I hope you enjoy!_

.:Disclaimer:.

Once again. Me - owns nothing.

.:Story Key:.

(Normal) Word - Normal Writing

_(Italic) Word_ - Thoughts/Dreams/Letters

(Normal) "Quotations" - Spoken English (Unless otherwise stated)

_(Italic) "Quotations"_ - Spoken Latin

.:Warning:.

A new character is introduced. There are several cliff hangers in this chapter, and also a lot of problems arise that you won't see the solution to for a while. This is a turning point for the story; the point where I stop playing around and the plot starts to get twisty.

.:Note:.

I have some good news, and some bad news. The good news: I FINALLY UPDATED! The bad news: It's a shorter chapter. The first 4 chapters were kept at an average of about 5,000 words. This is what has made updates take so long. So, because of this, I have decided to shorten the length of my chapters. In theory, this means you'll get more updates more frequently. This could bomb, though, and I may revert back to 5,000 words a chapter out of habit. But for now, I'm hoping this will solve my little procrastination problem. The idea of 3,000 words is a lot less daunting that 5,000, anyways.

****

Review Please!!

* * *

5

Threats

He should have stopped then and there. So what if he knew her name? It mattered not to their situation. She was still his captive, and he her captor. Nothing would change that fact, no matter how much he regretted it. But God, it seems, had different ideas.

Glancing to the girl - his gaze holding hers intensely - Silas opened his mouth to speak. Within seconds, it closed again, and he licked his lips nervously. Was this the right thing to do? Should she know his name? Was he getting too emotionally attached? Of course, he held no affectionate feelings for the girl, but pity plays a great role in swaying a person's decisions.

Damaris.

The name played over and over in his head, like a melody he couldn't quite stop singing. It was different - strange and elegant to a certain degree, and definitely weird. But he wasn't one to talk, now was he? What kind of a name was Silas? Hmm...Silas and Damaris. It sounded pleasant together.

Blinking, the albino watched as Damaris - finally, he could put a name to her face! - tipped her head to the side while gazing at him under thick lashes. He could see the lines of recent tears that had snaked their way down her face, and the red puffiness of her eyes made his heart ache. The overwhelming need to hold her - to protect her - struck him like a hurricane.

And as soon as it had come, an even stronger feeling of fear washed over him.

Shaking his head, Silas slit his eyes at the girl and turned his back to her. His mind screamed at him to ignore her, but in his heart he knew the damage was done.

When you pick up a stray off the street, and harbor it until the owner can be found, you have no qualms with parting with it's presence. It is just another animal, and you could care less if you never saw it again. But once you name the beast, and pay it enough attention to find out its habits - its likes and dislikes - then you're in a world of trouble. Because when something has a name, it suddenly has a personality; and when something has a personality, it has the ability to move your own emotions.

Likewise, when a captor picks up a captive, and harbors the person until it is time to let go, they have no trouble parting with the victim. It's just another job, and they could care less whether that person lives or dies. But once the criminal finds out the person has a name, they start to learn of their past, and begin to see little glimpses of their soul.

Whether he liked it or not, Damaris was no longer just his captive. She had become the fiery, frightened college girl who likes walking in the rain and talking about philosophy; and even though he knew next to nothing about her past or personality, just that little bit of information was enough to ignite a flame of emotion in his otherwise numb being.

Simply put, in some twisted level of subconscious emotional insanity, Silas was attatched to Damaris.

"What is your name?"

The girl broke through his thoughts, making the monk lick his lips nervously. He was back to square one, only this time the question had actually been voiced.

Right now, Silas could do one of two things. He could sit there and ignore the girl, or answer her question. If he chose the former, there would be no more risk of emotional attachment. If the latter...

...Well, that outcome was quite nameless at the moment.

Glancing in her direction, the albino found her gaze relentless, and realized he had little or no time to make his decision. A thousand scenarios flew through his head in a matter of moments. She could hear his name and continue with their dangerous yet pleasant banter; or she might ignore him altogether after her question was answered. Would she like his name? Did it even matter?

He could feel her eyes burning into his pale skin, and his own blue orbs flitted about wildly for an escape.

Finally, his choice was made.

"I must go to the restroom. Don't do anything brash." With quick, decisive movements, the monk lifted from his seat and took off for the public restrooms near the back of the plane.

Damaris blinked once, twice, and after a moment realized two things stuck out in her mind. The first, she still didn't know his name. The second, she was all alone.

But why wouldn't he tell her his name? She had told him hers! Was it a matter of male pride? Of knowing that he knew more about her, than she did him? Her cheeks were stained red from the hot shame of it all. Had she just been trying to socialize with her captor? The girl didn't know whether to be embarrassed or disgusted. Perhaps it was a mix of both? And what was this unnamable feeling she got when around him? Their roles had not changed; she still felt very much so the victim of cruel circumstance, yet under that sickening feeling of fear which settled deep in her stomach was a sense of security she couldn't quite understand. This man had beaten her, and yet his touch gave her pleasant shivers. He had taken her from everything she had ever loved, and yet his presence was enough to put her at ease. And somewhere deep inside of her, she felt something for him.

It wasn't love.

Heck, it wasn't even like!

Sure, she pitied him to a degree, but that emotion didn't even begin to grasp at what she felt.

Why was the world so twisted? Why was her mind so messed up she couldn't even decide whether or not she hated a man who had veritably imprisoned her? Why -

...Wait a minute.

Damaris glanced to her left and stared at the empty seat before her.

She was alone.

An exhilarating thrill danced along her spine, and in a matter of moments she had jumped out of her seat in excitement. Looking left to right to make sure the albino wasn't there, the girl had to choke back a cry of relief at seeing nothing but empty aisle space.

She was free!True, she was trapped in a metal machine miles above the earth's surface with no way to get back down, but for a few precious moments, the ominous albino's form wasn't suffocating her! Now was her chance. If she ever wanted to see her family again, she had to tell someone aboard this flight her situation...

"Hello, love," came a voice from the seat next to her, and before Damaris had time to look down, a cloth was shoved roughly against her nose. Gasping in surprise, she inadvertently inhaled whatever chemical was on the material, and felt herself sway. She was gently guided to her seat, and before unconsciousness overtook her, she saw a pair of slate gray eyes glinting at her in mirth.

* * *

Her lips were warm against his mouth, and Lance couldn't help but smirk at the way her body melted into his own. The movie had long since been forgotten - heck, he couldn't even remember the name! - as he and his date, the strikingly beautiful Verona Maine, began their make out session. She whimpered in protest as he pulled back, and several people around them began shushing in aggravation. Lance couldn't help but chuckle, and was answered by a dozen angry glares.

Verona, with her pouty red lips and large doe eyes, silently pleaded for him to continue.

He, not one to deny a fair maiden a night of passion, swooped down to capture her mouth once again, when his cell phone started to ring.

Several moments of fumbling around in his pockets and many angry glares later, he managed to silence the call before jumping from his seat and dragging his date with him to the snack bar. Flipping the annoyingly bad-timed device open - Damaris had once called it the 'Devil's Trumpet,' and rightfully so -, he found Mr. Cephus' number on his caller ID. Tipping his head to the side, the blond-haired beauty redialed the number.

"Hello?" came the voice from the other end.

"Hello, Mr. Cephus? This is Lance. Did you just call me?"

There was a pause on the other line, then a string of words so fast Lance could only hear a few random phrases such as, 'Damaris...hung up...journals...vacation...'"Woah, woah! Mr. Cephus, slow down! You're talking about as fast as a 15-year old on the phone, and I can't understand a word you're saying."

Verona was pouting heavily by now, her elegant hands twirling strand upon strand of luscious blond hair through her fingers. Lance mouthed a quick 'I'm sorry,' to the woman before ignoring her completely. Sure, they had dated a few times, but it was nothing serious. He would dump her at the drop of a hat if need be, and right at the moment Damaris' dad seemed ready to have a conniption fit - whatever that was supposed to be.

"It's Damaris," John breathed heavily, forcing himself to calm down. "I talked to her a little while ago, and something doesn't seem right."

Lance sighed and shook his head. "I talked to her yesterday and she seemed fine."

On his wits end, John snapped and yelled into the receiver, "Well, I talked to her this morning, and she was on the point of tears!" Running a shaky hand through his graying hair, the pastor lowered his voice and said in a whisper, "I'm sorry...it's just...I'm worried."

"I understand," Lance responded quickly, a little surprised the man would yell at him. His shook it off without a second thought, and tried to bring reason into the conversation. "Did she tell you anything important? I'm sure if something was bothering her, she would go straight to you."

There was another pause.

"She mentioned going to a friend's family reunion over the break, but I don't -"

"Wait," Lance interrupted, looking at the phone questioningly as if the man on the other end could see him. "We don't have another break. Finals were yesterday, and new classes are starting up again." Scratching his hairless chin, he tipped his head to the side. "Come to think of it, Damaris didn't show up for Finals. That's not like her..."

"Who's Damaris?" Verona's overly sweet voice broke through the man's thoughts as she sashayed towards him. With a suspicious frown on her face, she leaned onto Lance's shoulder and tipped her head to the side.

"Who're you talkin' to?"

The blond-haired man had to resist rolling his eyes at the woman hanging on him. Verona was a great kisser, and an easy lay, but she wasn't very bright.

"No one, Verona. Look, this is sort of an emergency, and I probably need to go..."

"But I need you here!" There was that pout again. The way her lower lip jutted out slightly; how her honey blond hair fell over her face innocently; and the teary look her wide eyes seemed to get.

Lance ran a shaky hand through his hair and sighed. "I think something's happened to my friend. She might be in trouble..."

"I need you!" She repeated again, a look of hurt crossing her features.

"Verona..." he moaned as she caught his hand in a vice-like hold.

Unrelenting, the woman grabbed his cell phone and flipped it shut before he could protest. Smiling wanly, she placed a tender hand on his chest and leaned forward. "Now...where were we?"

Clenching his fists, Lance snatched his phone back and turned away. "At the point where I was going to tell you to get lost." And without another word, he left.

"This better be an emergency," he growled under his breath, glaring at the phone in his hand as if it were the source of his problems. Glancing at the voluptuous beauty behind him, he cursed at his misfortune and reluctantly dialed the number again.

"Hey, sorry about that Mr. Cephus - " he began, but was cut off.

"Sorry, kid," came a gruff voice from the other line, sending shivers up Lance's spine. "But the old man is a little...tied up... at the moment. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind a little visit, though."

"W-what?" His baby-blue eyes widened in shock at what this strange man was saying.

"Bring the girl here, and the old man won't get hurt."

For a second, Lance thought the man meant Verona. But why would he want her, of all people?

"W-who?"

Growling, the voice shouted, "Damaris! Bring that damned wench to me, or you - and Cephus - won't live to see another day!"

The line went dead, and Lance dropped his phone.

* * *

There had, in fact, been a line to the bathroom. Silas stared at the floor as he shuffled forward step by step. The silence was awkward. What could a bunch of strangers needing to wiz say to each other, anyways? Of course, he didn't really need to relieve himself. This time away from his captive would give him a chance to think. Hopefully he could reconstruct those walls he had built around his heart; make them strong enough to keep out a persistent college girl.

Staring at the slate gray carpet adorning the area below his feet, the albino tried to clear his mind of everything that had happened to him the past few days. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself in a world of emptiness, nothing but white space to fill his vision. He had no past, he had no future, and the present seemed more of a matter of opinion than reality. Slowly, he began to take deep breaths.

_Breathe in..._

A bloody priest lay before him.

_Breath out..._

His mother sat cringing in the corner, afraid to touch him for fear of angering her husband.

_Breath in..._

A young woman with frighteningly intense eyes struggled against his form.

_Breath...o..u..t..._

Damaris was crying again, and he could almost taste her salty tears.

Silas had to stop from gasping in shock at the flood of memories bombarding him. Clenching a pale fist, the monk tore his eyes from the floor and glared angrily at the wall in front of him. How _dare_ she invade his thoughts like this! Gritting his teeth to stop from growling in anger, the albino shifted his gaze to Damaris' seat, hoping to pour out his anger on the girl by staring at her threateningly.

What he saw, however, chilled him to the bone.

* * *

_Damn_, he thought, smiling as the woman's curves pressed up against his body. _Too bad Silas is celibate...he's really missing out on this little beauty here._ Reluctantly, the gray-eyed man lowered his victim into window seat, making himself nice and cozy in the space next to her. Tapping his pale fingers on the armrest, he leaned back in his seat and waited.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

The wait wasn't long.

Smirking, he turned towards the source of the harsh growl and tipped his head to the side. "Where I come from, we exchange pleasant greetings before asking questions." Then, in a tone dripping of sarcasm, "It's nice to see you too, Silas."

Clenching his fists, the monk bent towards the other, his frame looming over the man. "I won't repeat myself, _Malak_." He spit out the name as if it were venom on his tongue.

Sighing, Malak leaned his hand against curled fingers and stared at Silas in exasperation. "What ever happened to pleasant banter, friend?" Seeing the glower on the other's face was enough to make him grin. "Alright, alright..."

Stretching up out of the seat, the gray-eyed man maneuvered around the albino to the empty row behind Damaris. Silas, in a protective manner, swooped down beside the girl, checking her vitals and taking a moment to look her over before turning to his enemy.

"She's really quite beautiful when she's sleeping, wouldn't you agree?" Malak reveled in Silas' nervousness, and shifted his piercing gaze from the girl to the albino.

If the monk could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he turned his face away to hide the nervous glint in his eyes. Without replying to the other's comment, he went straight to the point.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hostile, him having forgotten civility during these past few moments of nervous tension.

Silas hated the look Malak had on his face while gazing at Damaris. It was like a mix between a leer and longing. Something in the other's eyes just rubbed him the wrong way. He could recognize the emotions now, as they swelled to unbelievable proportions in his chest. Fear, for Damaris' life, and safety. Protectiveness, and possessiveness.

...and jealously.

He itched to look at someone that way again. To have the freedom to lust, the freedom to love. But he was not his own man. He was a messenger of God. Silas did not have the capacity for tenderness anymore. He barely had the ability to pity. And this frightened him. Frightened him to unimaginable degrees. Because if he couldn't feel these emotions, it detached him from the human race. It tore down the line between man and beast, and made him a blurry monster as free as one nameless, yet bound by the laws of both societies. Silas feared he no longer had the ability to feel any kind of righteousness or pure emotion towards another of the opposite gender. He hated the sense of helplessness this thought brought. He despised himself even more for caring.

"Oh, the usual," Malak said flippantly, rolling his eyes as he seemed to quote a phrase out of a book. "High-profile assassinations, government overthrows, world chaos. Just here to promote the bloody massacre that is life."

"You're sick," Silas spat.

"I'm honest," he countered, lifting an eyebrow when the monk had nothing to say to that.

Damaris stirred in her seat, and both men twisted around to face her. It was a false alarm, though, as she merely mumbled something in her drug-induced slumber and settled back into her world of dreams.

A world in which, Silas admitted reluctantly, he would have given anything to be a part of right now. At the moment, sitting here with Malak's eerie gray gaze lashing out at both him and Damaris was not his idea of fun.

"You never answered my question," the monk pressed again, getting annoyed now.

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I just need your cooperation, and everything will be fine."

"What if I don't choose to 'cooperate'?" Silas growled, slitting his eyes dangerously.

Malak leveled his gaze with the albino, and smiled with unnatural glee.

"Then you and the girl die."


End file.
